


Katsudon for Gold

by cROAissant



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Characters Aged Down, Coach Yuri Plisetsky, Gen, M/M, Mild Language, Younger!Victor, Younger!Yuuri, coach yuri au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 12:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10944672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cROAissant/pseuds/cROAissant
Summary: Somewhere along the road, “I might never like you” morphed into “I would die for this child”, and Yuri Plisetsky would be six feet under before Victor fucking Nikiforov would lay his thirsty hands on his precious student.AKA, the Coach Yuri fic inspired bythe_sad_gay'sReverse AU.





	Katsudon for Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Золото за кацудон](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11348961) by [green_pastry (Weis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weis/pseuds/green_pastry)



The nearly fourteen-hour flight from Saga to Barcelona went off without any major hiccups. Sure, the in-flight movies were horrible and most of the passengers refused to understand basic plane etiquette and _shut the fuck up_ , but in the end, he and Katsudon made it to their hotel in one piece two days before the Grand Prix Final.

Checking himself and his useless student into the official hotel, Yuri Plisetsky avoided the growing hoard of press slowly making themselves at home across from the front desk. Not only was Katsudon unable to form coherent sentences at the moment, but they were both hungry and in desperate need to get the stink of nearly four hundred people trapped in an enclosed space for more than half a day off their skin.

Ushering the weary boy into the conveniently empty elevator, Yuri thought back to how exactly he - five-time Grand Prix Final champion and Russia’s living legend - found himself becoming Yuuri Katsuki’s coach.

If he was being completely honest, then this whole mess began due to his more than salty feelings about Victor fucking Nikiforov breaking both his short program and free skate records in his final season in the junior bracket.

But since no one but Otabek was aware of this, then his stint as a coach was an indirect result of last year’s Grand Prix in Sochi, when the silver-haired airhead mistook the already dejected skater for a fan and offered to take a commemorative photo. Resembling an abandoned kitten, Katsuki walked away from the pompous ass without a word. And he, as the wiser gold medalist, ragged on the junior champion until the latter stomped away with a theatrical flick of his ponytail like the drama queen he was.

Teenagers.

The whining ball of angst then spent the following months watching Katsuki’s old skating videos and pining over the younger skater. It was disgusting as fuck, and solidified his resolve to leave for Japan soon after The Video™ went viral.

A week later, the newly nicknamed Piggy found Yuri Plisetsky and his sweet kitten lounging in the old banquet hall beside his room on furniture he was sure hadn’t been there previously. The blonde stood, made a beeline for the panicked skater, and proclaimed himself the boy’s coach to _crush_ Victor Nikiforov and dominate the next Grand Prix Final.

“Coach?” a soft voice snapped him out of his reverie. Yuuri stumbled out of the bathroom looking much younger than his eighteen years would suggest, wearing an over-sized shirt and baggy sweatpants. His fluttering eyelids and unsteady gait signaled that the kid was ten seconds away from crashing for the next several hours.

Yuri chuckled, “What now, Katsudon?”

“Sleepy… I’m just… unpack…” Sure enough, Katsudon only stayed conscious long enough to take off his glasses and set it beside his phone before plopping diagonally on the plush mattress.

Chuckling, Yuri arranged the boy’s limbs in a more comfortable position before draping a warm blanket over him. The brunette cuddled into his pillow a bit before yawning adorably and drifting off into his mandated jet lag recovery nap.

Yuri had no clue when he started seeing this boy as more than just a way to keep the Russian Fairy from winning the Grand Prix in his senior debut, but if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he would die for Yuuri Katsuki. This nervous ball of anxiety was like a little brother to him. Or maybe a kitten - a small, sad kitten. Either way, he needed to be protected and loved, and Yuri was (secretly) happy to provide him with just that.

The kid lacked confidence, but when that rare moment when he didn’t overthink came, he was a monster on the ice. His step sequences put his own to shame, and his stamina allowed him to do things no other skater could do in their programs. He’d blazed through the embarrassing local competitions easily enough and secured himself a spot in the Grand Prix Final in his debut year in the senior division. That itself was an extraordinary feat.

_And you’re gonna snag that gold medal right out of that thirsty brat’s grubby hands._

Yuri quirked an eyebrow at the low hum that came from his student’s bed about an hour later.

 _He’s not… purring, is he?_ Standing from the drawers he shoved their clothing into, he arched over his student’s soundly sleeping form and realized the sound came from the poodle-patterned phone resting on the nightstand.

 _Must be Phichit._ He thought, watching the as the phone buzzed repeatedly in ten-second bursts. _The kid’s been wanting to hang out with Katsudon since assignments were out._

Phichit Chulanont was one of the rare people Yuuri could hold a conversation with without turning into human tomato. It was likely because the hyperactive kid with a borderline unhealthy attachment to his phone was too bright and warm to ignore. Bar his old dog, Phichit was Yuuri’s closest friend.

They’d met two years ago in a competition, Katsudon explained, the younger boy found him crying (surprise, surprise) in a bathroom stall after a bad practice session and spent the rest of the day cementing himself as the shy boy’s best friend. Neither Coach Celestino nor Minako Okukawa were happy about them ditching practice, of course, but they couldn’t deny that their friendship had helped them both grow over the years.

 _You're gonna have to wait ‘til tomorrow to spam the Internet with #bff selfies._ Yuri smirked, _Nothing short of the apocalypse can wake the kid up now._

The blue phone rang for a few more moments before stilling.

Then the apocalypse came.

Rapid footfalls preceded an insistent pounding on wood. Yuri vaulted over his bed, and all but ran to the door, lest his student wake from the noise. The last thing he’d want was for Katsudon to jolt awake from his jet lag recovery nap and cry… again.

He’d take a cranky toddler over a jet-lagged Yuuri any day.

“Yuuri~” a familiar voice crooned in accented English. “Phichit told me you got here a little before we did!”

Shoving the door open with a muffled bang, Yuri came face-to-face with the eighteen year old personification of all his problems. “What the fuck, Nikiforov,” he hissed, “Katsudon. Is. _Asleep_!”

The pony tailed brat’s eyes lit up like his birthday had come early and immediately dove through small opening between the blond and the door frame. Yuri had him in a headlock almost immediately.

Both Russians had their fair share of wrestling matches over the years. Not only were they both hotheaded, but roughhousing was a regular skating family pastime. This, however, was the first time he’d had to wrangle Victor without straining the latter’s muscles too badly or making too much noise.

And it was hard as fuck considering the little shit was twisting and thrashing like a man on a mission.

(Un)fortunately, they didn’t have to struggle for long, because somehow Victor kicking him in the shin was enough to wake the younger skater. The pair watched in mild horror was Yuuri shifted and slowly sat up, rubbing his tired eyes and staring blearily in their general direction.

“Hmmm… Victor?” Kastudon muttered groggily, “What’re you… doing here?”

“Yuuri~” Victor cooed, head still securely locked in crook of Yuri’s arm. “Do you want to go sightseeing with me after practice tomorrow?” Annoying heart-shaped smile plastered all over his stupid face, he continued, “I know it’s your first time in Barcelona, and I want to show you the sights!”

_Like hell, Nikiforov._

“Hmmm… sounds nice,” the younger skater murmured, eyelids drooping, “'Morrow, ‘kay?”

The moron squeaked triumphantly before releasing himself from Yuri’s hold. He hastily bid them both goodbye before speeding out of the doorway like the coward he was.

Yuri couldn’t even berate his student for fraternizing with the enemy because he’d gone back to sleep as soon as the silver-haired menace dashed away.

He was getting too old for this.

 

**_____**

 

Practice the next morning hadn’t been too bad. While he had yet to successfully land the quad flip that he insisted they keep for both programs, Katsudon was reaching a good jump height and his transitions after falling looked natural rather than desperate. They still had about half an hour of rink time, but four of their five competitors seemed satisfied with their progress and left.

“Don’t tire yourself out too much,” he advised, glaring good-naturedly at the fidgeting teenager, “One more run through, then you’re free for the rest of the day.”

Nodding, Yuuri skated glided away from the other skater and began his opening movements. “And mark your jumps this time, dammit. No way you’re kicking Nikiforov’s ass if you get yourself injured in practice.”

And like the rebellious little brat Katsudon sometimes was, he ignored his well-meaning coach completely and took off into a (stunning) triple axel.

“Yuuri, that was amazing!”

“Don't encourage him, fuckwad,” Yuri barked at the figure gazing longingly has his student. “He’s distracted enough without you mooning at him!”

Turning toward his old coach to convince him to yell at the drooling idiot, Yuri found the much older man smirking in his direction. _That geezer’s getting back at me for the shit I put him through when I was a teenager, isn’t he?_

As if reading his mind, the man’s smug look turned feral. Glowering from Yakov to his flighty skater, who Yuri knew was moments away from leaping into his own quad, Yuri let himself be petty.

“Katsudon,” he yelled, “if you don’t land that fucking quad flip, consider your date with that moron cancelled!”

The effect was instantaneous. Both horny idiots touched down on their landings, the younger of which skidding face down on the ice. Subtly scanning the boy for injuries, Yuri gave him a dry look, “Walk it off, Katsudon. If you just marked your damn jumps when I told you to, then you wouldn’t be kissing the ice, would you?”

Flushing darkly, the boy hesitantly yelled back, “I-I wouldn’t be k-kissing the ice if you h-hadn’t distracted me, Yurio!”

“That’s not my name, you brat!”

“F-Fuck you!”

Ah, he was so proud of his little shithead. He’d come a long way from the uncertain turtle that accepted his irrational dislike of him without question eight months ago. Sure, he was still a baby-faced doormat most of the time, but he willingly let his spiteful teen angst take over him more often now.

_Look at him, all grown up and cursing at authority._

“Vitya, focus on your performance,” Yakov bellowed, “And Yura, keep your skater in check.”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not my coach anymore!”

And just when he thought he was making progress with Katsudon’s spinelessness, a shame flooded into his features as he hung his head. “I-I’m sorry, Coach Yakov!”

He then pushed himself a bit further from the group and resumed running through Eros, marking his jumps like he’d originally been told to. Bemused, but smirking in Yuri’s direction nonetheless, Yakov responded, “Heh, that kid’s a far better student than you ever were. Maybe I should take him in and actually make him a winner.”

“Oh, will you, Yakov?” the little shit’s eyes twinkled, “Yuuri can come live with me in my apartment, it’ll be perfect!”

“Shut up and skate!” both coaches yelled, their voices echoing across the stadium.

Pouting like the baby he was, Victor glided sullenly across the rink and began the dramatic movements of his short program. Somewhere mid-step sequence, he froze and whipped his entire body toward his coach.

_I know that look. That’s the same look that got us all hungover at the Olympics._

“Coach, if I nail this whole thing without any technical flaws, can I go?”

Narrowing his eyes at the teen’s eagerness, Yakov responded warily, “Run through it twice without getting distracted and I’ll think about it.” As an afterthought, “and mark your jumps this time.”

Nodding enthusiastically, Victor made his way to Yuuri as the latter struck his final pose. Clasping both the younger boy’s hands in his, he crooned, “I’ll be done in a few minutes, Yuuri. Then we’ll go sightseeing like I promised.”

Flushing, Katsudon gave him a tiny squeak in response before speeding toward the rink entrance, where he winced upon seeing his coach’s long-suffering scowl.

“Quit the kicked puppy routine, Katsudon,” Yuri said when the boy refused to make eye contact upon reaching the barriers. “There’s no use looking guilty for being excited about going on a date with your… _boyfriend_.”

“B-but… you said--”

“That I’d cancel it if you didn’t land the quad flip?” Noting the boy’s shameful nod, he sighed. “Like I could stop him from kidnapping you after practice regardless. Now get off the ice and put your guards on so Vitya can prance around the ice like a woodland pixie.”

Giggling slightly at the image, Katsudon did as he was told and took a seat at the bench to unlace his skates. Yuri pretended not to notice when his student’s movements slowed as his eyes moved from his feet to the rink.

Turning his gaze in the same direction, Yuri suddenly remembered why the silver-haired skater was called Russia’s Rising Star. No one could deny that Victor Nikiforov was soon going to shake the very foundation of the skating world.

But if there was anyone who could knock him off his high pedestal, it was Katsudon.

“He’s amazing...”

If he would quit being such a damn fanboy.

 

**_____**

 

“I saw you sulking when your kid left with Nikiforov. Quit being a helicopter parent and enjoy spending time with me.”

Otabek was a good friend, Yuri thought, a bit too on the nose about his problems, but a good friend nonetheless. After telling Katsudon to watch out for Trouble, and informing Trouble that knife shoe decapitation was the least of his worries if anything were to happen to his skater on their walk, Yuri found himself in a pop up restaurant angrily consuming an array of Spanish cuisine.

“You’re still sulking,” the brunette eyed the fork like it was the enemy, “you do realize that they’re responsible enough to _not_ romp in some sleazy bar the evening before a major competition, right?”

Yes, he was aware, but that wouldn’t stop Yuri from thinking otherwise.

If he’d thought the brat was a thorn at his hide when they trained under Yakov together, then it was nothing compared to the frustration he’d been going through since becoming Katsudon’s coach. And he only had himself to blame for it.

Yuri’s first mistake was being far too proud of the (awesome) tiger shirt he’d purchased upon his arrival to Japan.

A week after unintentionally revealing his location through an impromptu Instagram photo, his flustered student met him at Ice Castle with the silver-haired menace in tow. _I’ve come to spend time with Yuuri_ , he’d said with his stupid heart-shaped smile, _it’s not fair that you get to keep him all to yourself._

Two days and three rambunctious girls’ negotiations later found Yuri hosting Onsen on Ice for all of Hasetsu. The exhibition would determine whether the Russian Fairy would stay with them in Japan or go home and leave him in peace. The following evening left Victor ecstatic, Yuri fired up, and Katsudon conflicted.

His second mistake was giving his student On Love: Eros.

He’d planned to stack the cards in his favor by throwing them both off their usual patterns for Onsen on Ice. A sharp and alluring program for the cinnamon roll, and lyrical and delicate piece for the spawn of the devil. Katsudon would have better odds gaining a backbone than Nikiforov quitting his jump-happy tendencies and just dancing to the music.

But lo and behold, his student was as thirsty for the Russia’s Rising Star as Victor was for him, and they’d spent the whole week of practice critiquing each other, improving their programs, and “getting to know each other better”.

The lovesick smile that spread over the older teen’s face when he’d lent Katsudon his old costume (the one he recalled being inspired by bondage and lingerie) and the latter’s blushing response disgusted Yuri to this day. Needless to say, Katsudon won and he’d gotten rid of Victor for a few months.

His third mistake was telling Katsudon that senpai would notice him if he stole the gold from under his smug little nose.

It was that confidence boost that made Yuuri work up to courage to Skype Victor a few days before his first qualifier to congratulate him on his gold medal and ask him to watch the Cup of China. In response, the thirsty bastard boarded a plane to Beijing to cheer him on. Their (ex-)coach would later yell at them both for younger’s impulsiveness, like it was Yuri’s fault that Yakov let his guard down after Victor’s win at Skate Canada.

Then he’d failed to recognize just how frantic his student had been feeling after taking first at the short program, and Yuri made his fourth mistake.

He made Yuuri cry.

These were the facts, Japan loved Yuuri Katsuki like the sweet, talented child he was. Yuri took a hit to his ego when he realized that Katsudon got as much - if not more - attention as he did there. Japan’s Ace, they called the timid, perpetually flushed kid who fell asleep on Yuri’s shoulder on long train rides.

With the way Katsudon ducked his head at interviews and insisted he was a national failure, Yuri would have thought otherwise but he was pampered and praised in Japan as much as he and Victor were in Russia.

It was the pressure of being his country’s only representative in a major competition coupled with the need to prove himself as a worthy student and competitor to Yuri and Victor respectively that had the seventeen year old yelling at him in an empty parking lot while a horrified Russian Fairy watched from his hiding spot in the stairwell.

After glimpse of Yuuri’s anxiety and a lesson in tact, Yuri swore he’d show just how supportive of Yuuri he was from then on.

Unfortunately, Victor vowed the same thing, and fucking hugged-blocked him after Katsudon’s free skate. (Okay, maybe the hug wasn’t actually aimed at him, but Katsudon deserved one after performing so well after a mental breakdown, and by god Yuri was going to give him one.) The official start of their disgustingly mushy relationship was displayed right there on international television when Victor dipped the flustered silver medalist into an absurdly long kiss.

Yakov yelled at Yuri again as he sent Victor back to Russia, as if he was happy to have witnessed the honry teenagers’ tongue battle at the Kiss and Cry.

They were just as gross at the Rostelecom Cup a few weeks later, much to everyone’s ~~dismay~~ delight with Victor tying Yuuri’s skates before the short program and Yuuri combing Victor’s hair before the free program.

It was enough for a majority of the audience to switch between chanting _Yuri_ (his name, not the terrified Japanese boy who said he’d intimidate the audience before they intimidated him) to screaming _Victuuri_ before Katsudon performed Eros.

Phichit got an earful from him when the ship name trended on SNS after the Cup of China.

Things would have been fine had he not needed to return to Japan. Potya, the most uncoordinated cat to ever exist, fell out of his bedroom window and the Katsuki family had feared the worst. A distraught Yuuri begged him to return to be with his kitty despite the nerves that were likely crawling their way into his head after his third place finish after the short program.

Yuri reluctantly left, promising his student that Yakov would take care of him in his absence. And suddenly, he was thankful for Victor being assigned to the same qualifier.

He met Yuuri at the airport three days later and allowed the emotional child to hug him upon retrieving his luggage. He relayed the pointers Yakov had given him at practice, and with twinkling eyes, told him about the older skater trying to relieve him of his tension before the free skate.

Victor’s support definitely played a role in his student making his way into the final by the skin of his teeth. Despite his misgivings, he knew Victor hadn’t done this to get in Yuuri’s pants.

And as much as it pissed him off, Victor made Yuuri happy.

So maybe Victor Nikiforov wasn’t so bad.

 

**_____**

 

He was going to fucking kill Victor Nikiforov.

“You were right, Coach,” Yuuri yelled, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling in pure delight. “Victor said he’d marry me if I won!”

The plain, gold band glinted on his student’s right hand with a nearly audible _ding_ , and Yuri could have sworn it was brighter than the collective futures of everyone within a hundred-kilometer radius. If he was holding anything other than glass, then Yuri was sure his drink would have spilled all over his lap from the strength of his grip. The urge to strangle the life out of the Nikiforov brat with his own hair only grew as he glanced Otabek’s way to find him clapping enthusiastically at the news.

A flamboyant wave of silver swooped to Katsudon’s side and hooked an arm (the one that wasn’t donning the cursed piece of jewelry) around his waist. Screw the matching rings, their stupid, twinkling eyes were starting to blind him.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Victor crooned, looking ready to burst, “Yuuri bought them for us!”

 _Wait, what?_ “Are you telling me that _you_ proposed to him, Katsudon?” He received flushed cheeks and a manically ecstatic grin in response.

“I b-bought them as a g-good luck charm, then--”

“Then I said yes! Now we’re getting married~” Victor’s ringed hand joined the one settled on Katsudon’s waist, and glomped the younger boy with all the passion he could express in a public setting.

Nuzzling ensued. Otabek still hadn’t stopped clapping.

“B-but you said I had to win,” Katsudon hissed, thrashing in the other teen’s hold when he froze.

“Did I say that?” a confused frown replacing his previous glee, “Well then, you’re just going to have to skate better than you normally do tomorrow, because I’m not giving up my first senior gold that easily.”

Yuri’s progress with Katsudon’s self-esteem showed in his response. Rather than blanching or bursting into tears at the thought of defeating his long-time idol like he would have just a few months ago, the brunette squared his shoulders and spun around to meet his rival in the eyes. " _Your_  first senior gold, Victor? I don't think so. I'll be the one taking first at the Grand Prix Final.”

Then - of course - all his bravado left as soon as it came, and he was back to apologizing for his behavior like the blushing fanboy he was. Victor’s excitement returned tenfold, “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

It occurred to Yuri that he should point out that this was the furthest thing from a proposal, and it sounded more like they were putting a condition on their possible relationship upgrade. But he knew it couldn’t be any farther from the truth.

If there was anything he’d learned about Katsudon in the past eight months, it was that he spoke in metaphors. Whether it was due to how he was raised or his crippling anxiety, Yuuri Katsuki would never directly tell anyone what he wanted. He would show it in his actions, in his expressions, or reactions, but never in words, and it was up to people like him and Victor to catch on.

And with the way his eyes shined all night, brushing up against his… _fiancé_ and keeping his arm locked in his, Yuri knew that what Katsudon wanted was to marry Victor Nikiforov.

 

**_____**

 

The next morning found Yuri awake long before Katsudon’s alarm would jolt him back into the world of the living. No matter how long they’d been waking before dawn for practice, his student just never had it in him to wake naturally before nine.

Seeing him sprawled on his side under the sheets reminded Yuri just how young the kid was. _When I was eighteen, I abandoned the banquet to watch a slasher film with Beka. Here he is, engaged to an airhead who’s barely an adult himself._

After a quick shower and breakfast, Yuri left the hotel for a short walk.

He had a Grand Prix finalist to find and a shovel talk to give.

A few minutes of searching led Yuri to a beach, where Victor was dramatically raising his ring against the morning sun. A swift kick and an exchange of insults later found Yuri squeezing the kid’s stupid face and glaring.

“Not everyone looks up to you, Plisetsky.”

“Well sucks for you, Nikiforov, because your new fiancé does.”

Okay, so it was more a standoff than a shovel talk.

“That kid deserves better, Nikiforov,” Yuri scoffed, “No way I’m giving him away to a junior has-been.”

“ _Has-been_?” the boy sneered, “I’m competing in the Grand Prix Final in my senior debut after finishing first in both my qualifiers. _You’re_ just a coach now. If anyone’s a has-been, it’s you.”

That kind of low blow deserved a punch in the face, and he could to it right now without anyone knowing. The kid would be too proud to admit what happened, and would take the secret to his grave. He would have gladly given him a black eye had he been a decade younger, but Yuri had to pretend to be fucking adult in this kind of situation.

But before he could act, Victor slapped his hand off his face and turned to leave. _Way to clear the air, Nikiforov._

He was a foot away when he turned back.“I’m serious about it, you know,” he muttered, “I don’t care about _who_ wins today, I’m going to marry Yuuri.”

No matter how much Yuri refused to admit it, his fear of Victor treating this whole thing like a summer fling had long dissipated. The younger Russian proved time and again that he was head over heels in love with his student. The gold band on his right hand was more than enough proof that he was serious about this marriage shit.

But that didn’t mean Yuri was going to let those two marry so early. Last time he checked, neither of them could cook anything past instant noodles.

“You know the rule, kid,” he said, “No gold means no Katsudon, and your junior medals aren’t going to cut it.”

Confusion colored his features for a moment before it clicked and Victor laughed. “You want to play like that? Fine, I’ll take gold this year and get my Katsudon as a reward! Heck, I’ll even win five Grand Prix Finals like you did and show you that I _really_ deserve Katsudon. Will that make you happy, Your Majesty?”

He smirked, “Happy? Sure, since there’s no way you’re winning five Grand Prix Finals any time soon, not with Yuuri around.”

 

**_____**

 

Four years and several gold medals later, Victor got his Katsudon. And despite what Otabek told everyone, Yuri definitely didn’t cry at the wedding.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking of a Coach Yuri AU for some time now but never really had concrete ideas for it, then [the_sad_gay](https://twitter.com/the_sad_gay)’s glorious Reverse AU appears and I'm completely sold.
> 
> As of June 19, it was revealed that our loving, rabid cat child named his pet PUMA TIGER SCORPION (Pyocha for short) like the edgy teenager he is, and I edited that in for no other reason than to leave this note and commemorate the reveal.
> 
> Second edit: It was recently pointed out to me that I used a r-rated slur in my fic. This was an oversight in my end, and I’m very sorry if I’ve offended anyone. I’ve changed the word and again, I apologize for its use in my fic.
> 
> Hit me up on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cROAissant) and [Tumblr](http://croaissant.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


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